


Second Chances

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [114]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Canon is important, Closure, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Not A Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 14:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18701083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Clint finds Dr. Strange standing over Natasha's grave.





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> This is my best one since Rest I think.

   “Dad?”

   Clint tensed automatically at the sound of Lila’s unsure, shaky voice. His eyes closed briefly against images that flashed in his mind, the novelty of that word after five years, “yeah, what’s up?”

   When no answer was forthcoming, he turned from where he was cleaning his bow to find her staring out the screened front door, pale with furrowed brows. Clint was at her side in a heartbeat, only to freeze at what he saw out in the field.

   “Who is that?” she whispered, as though the tall figure could somehow hear them.

   “Its-” Clint worked his jaw a bit. “A friend. Listen, I need you to make sure your brothers don’t come outside, alright?”

   He could feel her hesitation, a separation anxiety that he felt keenly, but Laura was right, better not to encourage it. He clasped her shoulder gently, “now, please. I won’t be long.”

   With a sigh she finally disappeared into the living room. Clint found himself standing there, fingers hooked around the small handle, unmoving. It wasn’t difficult to figure out who was standing way out there at Nat’s grave. Even though he had met him but briefly, it would be impossible to forget the man who stood stoically at the ceremonies for Nat and Tony, like he had any right after sentencing them to death.

   Resolve and a familiar burning anger settled like a rock in his stomach as he yanked the door open and made his way briskly across the field. He was barely within ear shot when he called out, “ _hey! What the hell are you doing here_?”

   He turned, expression frustratingly impassive, hands tucked inside that damn Cloak of his and Clint waited. It felt raw, too raw still, to be near Nat’s grave, to have a stranger stand there like he could ever understand. Clint wanted to snarl and be angry because he knew why Strange was standing in front of him with wounded eyes and he doesn’t _care_.

   Clint is exhausted, has been since the day his family disappeared and now here, he was, watching Laura make breakfast, Lila shooting arrows, his sons arguing over video games, but he still didn’t feel _whole_. It was wrong, it felt wrong because it should be Nat. Nat who could survive anything, who haunted his dreams and him ache.

   He wasn’t ready to be told he shouldn’t feel guilty.

   Strange began to blur in front of him and Clint hated it, hated himself. He didn’t know if he was shaking from anger or sorrow and he was just so god damn tired, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

   “I think she would have really liked this spot. It was her favourite wasn’t it?”

   And Clint looked at him, saw knowing eyes and an expression that seemed even more exhausted then his own, as if that were possible and he dumbly replied, “yeah, she would do target practice here, just a little further in the woods where the kids couldn’t see.”

  Strange nodded and turned back to the small grave marker and Clint found himself standing next to the tall man in silence, but for the rustling of the leaves and singing of the birds. It was small, simple, a natural looking grey rock reaching out of the ground and engraved with an hour glass and two dates. It still hurt to look at, knowing her body wasn’t there, but far far away.

   Several minutes passed and it almost felt serene, the anger from earlier diminishing rapidly in the presence of the sorcerer and Clint could feel the words on his tongue, circling over and over in his mind. But he didn’t speak them, the dread inside to volatile, too close to be touched just yet. So, he stood there, arms crossed and eyes glassy, waiting for the sorcerer to say something or leave.

   It came on a soft gust of wind, barely audible to Clint’s ears if he hadn’t been listening for it, “ask.”

   His eyes fell closed.

   “Ask,” he said again, more insistently.

   “No.”

   “Clint,” his name startled his eyes open to find, dark stormy ones on his. There was a hardness there, shaky but determined. “ _Ask_.”

   He looked back at the grave, unable to stand that gaze, practically pleading as though he needed to say the words as much as Clint needed to hear them.

   He breathed deeply, ground his teeth together harshly before finally snapping out, “what if I had died instead of her?”

   “We would have lost,” he said it calmly and it grated on him.

   “Bullshit,” he nearly barked.

   “The flap of a butterfly’s wing,” he murmured.

   Clint found himself glaring at the taller man, whose own gaze was locked on the stone, though it was like he wasn’t seeing it, something completely different playing out inside his head. His lip began to curl automatically, prepared to tell the sorcerer to fuck off when he continued quietly.

   “its ok, let me go.”

   He froze, looking up at him, whose expression had abruptly shifted into something sad and heavy. Nobody knew Nat’s final words, not even Laura and maybe that was just one of the many defences he’d thrown up because despite everything he’d seen he still didn’t trust magic and he wasn’t beyond pretending Strange was just into some parlour tricks, but that….

   “If you had died,” Strange continued and Clint was hit with the childish urge to cover his ears, so he balled his hands into fists instead. “There would have been no one to answer that phone call. Natasha would have been standing next to Banner, trying to help. In one future she died instantly when Thanos hit the compound with that missile. In another, there was nobody standing where you had been and so nobody to retrieve the Gauntlet. Nebula would have found it first and it all would have been for nothing.”

   Strange’s eyes held a haunting grief that Clint couldn’t comprehend, even as he processed those words and his mind spun with the ringing truth in them. Tears still gathered in his eyes as he shook his head in denial, “I’ve done so much wrong, she didn’t deserve-”

   A derisive snort interrupted him, shocking Clint to his core, because he’d never heard that sound from the usually composed sorcerer, “she did a lot of wrong too, years and years more of it then you ever did. You gave her a second chance to be better, to make amends, to become something she was proud of. You gave her back her life and now its your turn to do the same. Its your turn to make her proud and your family, and yourself. You aren’t the man you’ve been these past five years.”

   It was so similar to what Natasha had said, too similar and still his mind was rebelling, “it wasn’t fair,” he tried again, unable to stand the injustice of it.

   Strange slumped, “Clint. The world doesn’t work like that and you’ve known it for a very long time. She died on her terms, in her way, doing something _good,_ and _right_ , and for all the things that matter in life. She died for love and family, don’t dishonor that just because of some perceived injustice.”

   Clint stared at the man.

   It hurt; he couldn’t imagine a time it which it wouldn’t, but he also had enough sense to admit he was right. He had been so stuck since that day on the why of it all that he hadn’t done the one thing he should have been, the one thing she would have wanted.

   It was his second chance.

   For his family and his future.

   “Clint,” he looked back at Strange, whose own eyes were back to looking far away again. “Tell your family about her, when they are old enough, the good and the bad. You too if you can ever manage it and write it all down, your life and your second chance, because she’ll be waiting.”

   “Who?” Clint asked, brows furrowing.

   “Natasha. Don’t spare a single detail because she can’t wait to hear it.”

   Before he could stop the man, he was backing away, a swirling portal opening up and he disappeared just like that. Clint stared at the place he had just disappeared, eyes burning and chest aching.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't expect this particular series to be popular but I'm doing it because I highly respect Endgame and want to explore the Canon universe that was so brilliantly crafted and delivered by the enormous, amazing team at Marvel (not just the Russo Bros and Kevin Feige). They have been working on this for so many years and I have nothing but respect for what they've done and the important lessons we could learn in the epic conclusion because they refused to shy away from the hard choices.


End file.
